


Left My Heart On The Stairs

by BisforBread



Series: Star Trek Royalty AUs [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cinderella Elements, Glass Slippers (Cinderella), M/M, Male Cinderella, Sarek is actually a good parent in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisforBread/pseuds/BisforBread
Summary: He's just a dirty peasant, a farmboy whose golden luck brought him to the prince's secret garden. He didn't actually expect someone to be there, but as prince Spock stood up in shock, rising from the cerulean darkness, he felt his heart thump harshly against his chest.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Star Trek Royalty AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086191
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	1. The Hazel Twig

Once upon a time, there was a boy called Jim. 

And though he was born into an unfortunate world, there was nothing unfortunate about him whatsoever.

His father had died so he could live, and the sorrow that his mother felt she did not show for the sake of his happiness.

His childhood was torn from a dream, something out of a fairytale: laughter lost in the meadows that surrounded their family estate, warm folk stories told cooped up around the fireplace to keep out the cold, adventures through the forest picking peaches.

For the longest time, it was just Jim and his mother and their little world on the borders of the kingdom, with no worries, no cares, nothing of that sort.

Winona Kirk tried to teach Jim everything about the world: how fencing, chess, how to bargain a good price, the growth process of a peach tree, chemistry, art, architecture, sewing, how to climb anything.

The only sadness Jim felt was when his mother left on business for a few weeks, but even then, he had the company of the servants and the chef, Montgomery Scott who always made the best tattie scones and Lorne sausage, which was made when Jim had a cold or just felt slightly under the weather. Naturally, all of the servants loved him and found his ability to attract animals adorable and he loved them back with his big heart and warm smile. 

Life was perfect. 

But all of that ended when he was twelve years old. 

Winona made the realization that she could not give him everything, and so she married a widower, once married to a countess, by the name of Frank Carlisle. He had two sons around Jim's age: Harry and Caleb Carlisle. From the moment Frank stepped into the house, Jim knew there was something evil about him, his thundering boots, and his gruff voice that made him want to run and hide. 

When Winona was around, Frank was pleasant and patted him a little too roughly on the back, but as soon as she was out of sight, he started ordering him around or, at best, straight up treated him like he didn't exist.

Harry was the worst though, because Frank had obligations to Winona to be nice to Jim, and Harry didn't. He was rough and square-shouldered, built like an ox much like his father, and acted like one. He made it his mission to make Jim's life a living hell. Caleb was quiet and Jim didn't actually mind him so much. Unlike Harry, he was wiring and small. 

It was when he was sixteen that things truly became bad, a warm summer day like any other. 

"Jim! I'm leaving, come give your mother a kiss!" Winona yelled from the bottom of the main staircase, which was a beautiful dark oak color that went up through the house in a spiral.

It reminded Jim of a tree trunk growing through the middle of their beautiful home that he and his mother had spent painting trees and flowers across the walls in intricate designs. Yes, the house would be at the center of all of Jim's future problems, that beautiful stone estate with white trimming and shutters painted with pink blossoms, with a steel gate that was overgrown by roses and moss, with a garden encased by a stone wall that eroded over the years from the constant rain. It was enchanting and Jim was enchanted by its everything. 

"Coming!" Jim bound down the stairs, skipping every other step until his feet meet the cold wood floor(he was not a fan of shoes in the house) and wrap his arms around his mother who beamed in response. They stayed like that for not long enough before Harry and Caleb strolled into the hall. As he pulled away, Jim let out a tired sigh, "Do you have to go?" 

Winona pursed her lips, her hands dropping from her son's shoulders. "I do. But I'm going to Harendale, I can bring you something back," Then she turned to acknowledge Harry and Caleb who were hovering nearby, "I can you bring all something back, what do you want?" 

"New boxing gloves," Harry said instantly, giving his shitting eating grin. 

"Some new fabrics?" Caleb shrugged awkwardly and Harry nudged him roughly, glaring at him. 

"Sounds perfect," Winona concluded with a motherly smile. "And you, Jim?" 

He would've liked some new books, or maybe a telescope considering the lense in his had just recently cracked, or maybe a new pair of boots that shined in the sun. But instead, he smiled to himself and said, "Bring me the first branch that brushes your shoulder on your journey." 

Winona narrowed her eyes in surprise but nodded all the same. "Alright, then I'm off. I'll be back in just a few weeks." 

"Promise?" It was something he always asked. 

"Promise." Was always her answer. 

But fate had other plans. 

A week and a half later, at midnight, Jim was woken from his sleep by a dull knocking. Naturally, he never slept very well when his mother was away, so he rose to his feet, not even dressing other than putting on a pair of trousers, and shuffled down the stairs with a lit candle to see what the sound was. It was a knock from a door as another thudding echoed through the hall. 

"Kirk Estate, how may I be of service?" Jim smiled, despite the drowsiness that weighed him down.

The smile instantly fell when his eyes examined the gentleman at the door, holding his hat in one hand, and the other was folded behind him. His eyes were cast downward and for several seconds, he couldn't speak. Behind Jim, Frank and the stepbrothers hovered in several doorways, shaken from sleep and looking just that. 

"Sir..." The gentleman stuttered, "I apologize Mister Kirk. It's your mother..." 

"My..." Jim's heart swelled with pain as if a rope was wrapped around his heart and tightening, tightening with every passing second of silence. 

"She took ill on the road, sir. In...in her last moments, she only spoke of you. You and your father-"

Jim heard a gasp behind him, most likely from Frank followed by mumbles ("We're ruined!" "My boxing gloves!" "Oh no...") before they all shuffled away, leaving Jim and the gentleman alone. 

"She wanted you to have this." 

The gentleman held out the hand that was previously behind his back, revealing a hazel twig. Jim could hardly hear ever the pounding in his ears so he sucked in a deep breath, holding back the tears threatening to pour down his face, and said in his calmest voice, "Thank you. This must have been very difficult for you. Good night." 

And once he closed the door, he inhaled, just trying to breathe.

It can't be true. . . she's _not_ . . . _n o_ . . . 

_"Mom,"_ He whispered, his voice breaking as he clutched the branch, sliding down the door and hugging his knees as he cried into the night. 

And that was just the beginning. The very next day, Frank dismissed all of the servants in an attempt to save money, leaving Jim to do all the work, and work he did. It was mindless, endless work that distracted him from the true pain and bitterness that had grown around the raw hole in his heart. From then on, there were no niceties between Jim and Frank. 

Jim was an orphan servant who worked to pay off his debt of living. 

He _owed_ Frank for providing food, clothes, and a roof over his head. 

And Frank never let him forget it. 

Frank had him moved to the attic, six floors up in a spiraling, dusty tower-like structure, filled with old furniture and rotting wood, but Jim made the most of it. He cleaned it up and cleared the windows of their curtains, pulled out some of the old furniture to form a make-shift bed, and tried to just get through the days. Because that's all there was, nothing but getting through. 

He did all the chores and very narrowly avoided Frank's fists, sometimes couldn't even avoid it, worked until his knuckles bled or his eyes couldn't stay open a minute longer. 

And there was always more work in the morning, and Harry was always willing to provide him with more if he finished early. It was a little bit comforting that Caleb would come out some mornings and help him feed the animals, ask how he could help. 

And the hazel twig? 

Jim found a special place for it out in the forest near the estate, the forest that stretched for miles and he felt wonderfully lost in. Because it was his and his alone. None of The Carlisles ventured off the property let alone into the woods. 

It was perfect because Jim knew if he ran, ran into the woods, Frank would never find him and he'd be safe. 

He planted it, and with the help of rain, love, care, and a little bit of magic, it grew into a blooming, glorious tree. 


	2. Servant Filth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Frank have a fight that ends terribly, and when Jim runs away, he discovers someone unexpected.

**3 YEARS LATER**

Jim woke up shivering. It was a cold winter night, unusually cold, and the wind hollowed through the cracks in the ceiling. He curled himself up under his thin blankets, but even that wasn't warm enough and he felt hollow as if the chilly air was blowing right through him. 

After a minute, he couldn't take it anymore and sat up with a new idea. With that, he grabbed his pillow before pulling the heavy attic door open and slipping down the flights of stairs as the wooden boards creaked under him. 

He let out a sigh of relief to see the flame in the stone fireplace in the kitchen was still glowing and settled down in front of it, overcome with the refreshing feeling of warmth that blanketed him. His eyes felt heavy and he let them, sinking into the wonderful place one goes to right before dreaming. 

"BOY!" A voice shook the house and the blond sat up in a fit of panic. 

"BOY, WHERE'S MY BREAKFAST!" The thundering voice shrieked again and Jim stumbled to his feet, rushing out the door with a bucket for water. He returned shortly, dumping the water into a kettle for boiling and began cracking eggs into a pan after starting the fire on the stove. It was a race to get the eggs cooked and the water for porridge and tea boiled properly. Then, with three fumbling trays, he glided up the grand staircase to his stepfamily's bedrooms.

First came Harry's and Caleb's bedrooms. 

Harry growled when Jim entered, barely stirring from sleep.

Caleb was already up and early, reading near the window, and thanked Jim softly, too shy to look him in the eyes. 

And then there was Frank. Jim knocked on his door tentatively. This one interaction would define whether they would have a good day or a bad one, and Jim could practically feel the heat from his stepfather's anger through the wall. 

"Come. In," Came the muffled response and Jim pushed the door open, only to be enveloped in cool darkness. Frank loved to keep his room as cold and dark as the dark side of the moon and Jim had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the light difference from the hallway. 

Frank was sitting in his bed, the shadows across his face too drastic for Jim to read his expression, but the blond already knew what was coming. 

"Boy, do you know what time it is?" Frank asked calmly, which was scarier than him yelling and screaming, and Jim felt his heart twist sourly. 

"I.." He had to stop himself from making a sassy remark and bite back his tongue for once in his life, "I'm not sure." 

"You're not sure? Well, look outside." When Jim didn't move, he continued in a harsher tone. "Look. _Outside_." 

Jim moved quickly to the shut curtains and pushed them back, only to be enveloped in blinding light. It couldn't be more than seven-o-clock, but it was still very bright to him. He regretted looking back now to see the expression on Frank's face: terrifying anger. 

"What time is it, Jim?" 

"It's too late," He whispered, knowing any other response would mean a black eye. 

Frank nodded. "That's right. It's too goddamn late! You were supposed to be up hours ago, you filthy maggot!" 

"I'm sorry," Jim whispered instantly, just trying to cool Frank off, manage a way out of this situation. 

"You're what?" Frank put a hand to his ear in a mocking tone. 

"I'm sorry," The blond spoke louder, and he bit his lip so hard to keep from snapping back that it started to bleed. 

"That's right you're sorry! You're living under my roof, and I take care of you, feed you, clothe you-" 

_Beat me_ , Jim screamed in his head. 

"The least you can do is work a little. Because you were such a lazy cow getting out of bed, you have extra chores." 

Jim was about to open his mouth to say something but shut it when he saw the murderous look on Frank's face. 

"No problems?" Frank sneered a yellow, evil sneer. "Good. Sweep the floors, wash the curtains, clean the windows, wash the walls as well as do your other chores and I'll think about forgiving you for your mistake." 

Jim left the room without saying a word, despite every bone in his body telling him to go back in there and slap that guy around. 

In truth, Jim had never raised his hand to anyone, not even a fly. In fact, he liked animals more than he liked humans. They were far superior in every way. 

So, like every day, Jim began his chores. Feed the chickens and check for any more eggs, feed the cows, let the horses out to stretch, leave some food out for the lovely little mice that scare Harry half to death. His favorite part of working was probably being outside and taking care of the estate. 

He was determined to finish his chores before lunch, and with a ton of work, he found himself done by eleven-thirty. It was a miracle, and he felt his heart spring with hope. All that was left was to prepare lunch. 

And that he did too, setting out a glorious assortment of food(something he learned from the chef). He should've known setting out a fourth plate was asking too much, even on a good day. 

Frank looked at him like he was an alien as he set down the fourth plate. They were all situated at the long oak table, already beginning to eat, except Jim of course who was still setting things down. 

"It's a lot to ask for you to cook the food and still sit with us," Frank stated and Harry nodded deviously. "You'd probably like to eat downstairs and rest those tired legs of yours." 

"I can sit and eat here just the same-" 

Harry broke his sentence with a grimace. "Like we'd allow you to sit with us, Cindersoot! You're covered in dirt and manure like some animal!" 

Caleb said nothing but Frank said, "You'll soil my good chairs!" 

"They're my mother's chairs!" Jim snapped before he could stop himself, and Frank stood up, leaning his hands against the table. The blond became impossibly rigid, in the way a prey tries to hide from a predator. 

"You're an impudent, disgusting servant who belongs with the rats in the sewers and your mother should've known to ship you off to boarding school when she had the chance!" 

Jim took a step back, and even though Frank hadn't physically touched him, it hurt more than his fists to hear that alcoholic bastard talk about his mother like that. 

"That's right. If I wasn't so nice, I'd sell you to work in the colonies or in a factory! But your foolish mother demanded I keep her little mole until you grow up!" Frank removed one hand from the table, using it to point a grubby finger at Jim. 

"As soon as you turn 20, you're out of here! You can go live in the forest with all your other animal friends because then you WON'T BE MY PROBLEM ANYMORE!" 

The last part he said as Jim marched away, overwhelmed with the words spinning around in his head. He was going to the basement, in search of a mirror, and finally, his hand touched cold metal. 

When he raised the handheld mirror to his face, a gasp escaped him and the mirror slipped from his fingers, shattering on the cobblestone floor. 

He saw a barely recognizable face covered in dust and soot. Sure enough, he was dirty as ever.

What would his mother say? 

Jim rushed out of the house, barely hearing his own breath. He went immediately to the stables where his horse, Nila, a Black Arabian was waiting for him. Without even bothering to put on a saddle, Jim took her out and mounted her, intertwining his fingers through her hair and telling her to go, go, go. 

Anywhere but here. 

And soon the wind met his ears and the world was blurring in colors of green, grey, and blue, but he didn't care. 

All of the horrible things that had ever happened to him were running through his head like an open cut wound, all of the insults, comments, bruises, beat downs, everything that had ever gotten him down came rushing back at him tenfold.

His eyes stung as fresh tears slipped down his face, cold and neverending as they poured relentlessly down his cheeks and across his nose. He pressed his face into Nila's hair hoping, they would go away, that this would all just go away and he would be back at home with his parents telling him stories of pirates and treasures and lost princes.

When he thought they were deep enough in the forest, he stopped, knowing exactly where he was. Naturally, he had this forest mapped out in his mind like a familiar world he often visited. 

They had stopped under an apple tree and Jim climbed up, grabbing handfuls(for him and Nila) but a spark of something caught his eye. 

15 yards away there was a man squatting behind a bush, holding something. 

Jim quickly determined, with mortification, it was a gun. 

And the smooth business end of it was pointed at a stag in the distance. 

No, not today, Jim growled under his breath, jumping down from the tree armed with apples. 

"HEY, YOU!" He shouted, scaring the daylights out of the man in the bushes. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" 

And naturally, with two armfuls of apples, Jim began throwing them at the stranger who dared hunt a poor stag in his woods. 


	3. Guardian of the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim makes friends with a young apprentice. His trade: the monarchy, but Jim doesn't need to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is so short, I wanted to split up their interaction because I was going to add more, but I'll save it for next chapter h e h e.

"HEY, YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" 

Jim started catapulting the apples at the man in the bushes, who stood up in shock, covering his face from the fruity assault. The deer was long gone by now, but that had become the least of this hunter's problems. 

"DON'T" -An apple was thrown- "YOU" -Another apple thrown- "KNOW BETTER THAN" -Yet another- "TO HUNT" -and another- "A POOR ANIMAL?" -and finally one more "HE DID NOTHING TO YOU!" 

Jim was about to pick the apples on the ground back up and throw them again, but the stranger held up his hands and cried, "Wait!" 

The blond huffed and stopped the motion of his arm throwing the apple, but he kept it raised and ready to fire, eyes narrowed in judgment. 

"Are you going to listen to me?" 

"Maybe," Was Jim's flatly veiled suspicious reply. 

"I...I apologize if I am trespassing. I was not aware anyone owned this forest-" 

"I _don't_ own the forest, it belongs to the animals. And you tried to kill one of them, acting like their lives are any less important than yours!" 

"I-" 

"All of you city folk are all so entitled to owning or killing things, like it's some kind of game! To own things, people." 

"It is hunting. It is what is done." The man said plainly, as if it was obvious. 

"Just because it's done doesn't mean it's what should be done," Jim stated, letting his hand fall down to his side. "If you don't want to get pelted with apples again, I suggest you leave." 

The man raised an eyebrow, appearing almost shocked. He was a Vulcan, based on his straight-across haircut, pointed ears, and stoic expression.

_Oh no_ , Jim took a step back, he couldn't be older than _20._

He almost didn't hear the Vulcan speak. 

"What?" 

"Do you know who I am?" The Vulcan asked, amusement brightening the golden oak in his eyes.

"It wouldn't matter to me if you were the damn prince! In fact, if the prince tried to kill a stag in his own territory, I would tell him off just the same. Privilege doesn't excuse unethical behavior." 

"His? You are familiar with the stag?" 

Jim felt a harsh heat against his cheeks. "We...we are acquainted. What are you doing this far out in the forest anyway?" 

"I should ask the same about you." 

"I asked you first." 

"Very well. As I said, I am hunting." 

"Yeah, well I've never seen you out here before." 

"I have never ventured this far." 

"Are there others I have to pelt with apples?" 

"Not here, no. It is just me. Why are _you_ here? Do you live here?" 

"What? No! Of course, not! Sometimes I wish I did though. It's very quiet." 

"Yes, yes it is." 

Jim hadn't realized how close they'd gotten until he was staring into those dark pools of chocolate that seemed to hold a million secrets. 

"I-" Jim took a step back, dropping all of the apples except one. "I should go. Um, don't hunt in this forest."

He mounted Nila who had trotted up behind him and offered the apple to her as a tribute for allowing him to ride her all this way, stroking her mane gently and coaxing her to move. Nila was his horse, as he was her rider. Anyone else would get bucked off like a pesky little tic. 

"And tell your friends that too. If I see you in these woods trying to hurt the creatures who keep it alive, I'll throw more than just apples at you."

Both of them knew it was an empty threat, even though Jim was serious about protecting the animals who couldn't protect themselves, and as he rode away, he felt himself smile to himself about the stranger in the woods. 


	4. Destiny And Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Spock has become smitten with the Stag Guardian of the Forest.

He didn't know how he ventured so far out. He should have known, considering he hunted at least once a month, but now he was thinking that he didn't know the forest at all. 

No, that was a lie. All Spock was thinking about was the young man from the woods. 

He was no gentleman, but definitely no commoner. It was like he was on an entirely different plane of existence. Like he was a spirit of the forest. 

But Spock wasn't about to claim that he saw a spirit in the forest. That man was entirely real. 

And it would be illogical to deny one's curiosity and fascination about the Guardian of the Stags, whose eyes were bluer than glistening sapphires and as deep as the rolling seas. 

After the man rode away, Spock just stood there for the longest time, trying to memorize the details of their conversation and every inch of his face. 

"Your highness!" Someone called out to him and he turned to see the captain of the guard, Christopher Pike, riding toward him on horse, and trotting beside him was Spock's horse, Heming. It was a strange name and he hadn't chosen it, but he respected the wishes of his mother who _had_ named the purebred stallion and kept it in her honor. 

"Your highness!" He called again. 

"Captain." Spock blinked at the use of his royal title. "Is there something the matter?" 

Pike smiled at this. "Your father would have my head if anything happened to you! C'mon, kid, the hunting party is waiting to return home." 

"Alright, I will be just a moment." 

Spock looked around and tried to picture how the forest looked so he could find it again, and with that, he picked up a bruiseless apple and mounted Hemley before leaving with the captain. 

**~~♟~~**

"He has been like that all day, all _flittery_ and head in the clouds! Whatever happened in those woods-"

The duke stopped talking as soon as Spock rounded the corner into his father's library. The king was sitting on one sofa with a doctor checking his blood pressure while the duke sat opposite of him, sipping from a china teacup. 

Spock stood at the entrance of the library as not to be rude, but Sarek beckoned him in. 

"Son, Sasak tells me you seemed to have an adventure in the woods." 

"I did, father," Spock responded, hands folded perfectly behind his back. The prince never did like the Duke of Raal very much. There was something in his mannerisms that irritated Spock. 

"Would you care to elaborate?" 

"I ventured away from the hunting party for what appeared to be five minutes." 

"Did anything fascinating occur?" 

Spock almost smiled but continued to keep his face mutual, even when Sasak's face twisted. "Not that I recall, other than getting away from Captain Pike." 

Sarek turned back to the duke with a content expression present in his features. "I believe you heard my son, Sasak." 

"I did, your majesty," Sasak grated out. 

"Now, if you have nothing further to say, my son has come to seek my company." 

"Yes, your majesty." The duke stood up stiffly, and as he walked past Spock, he whispered a curt acknowledgment, "Your highness." 

"Sasak," Spock acknowledged in reply, waiting until the library door closed before he sat down on the sofa across from his father. The doctor followed the duke out, leaving the two men to themselves. 

"Tell me," Sarek looked at his son with all-knowing wisdom swirling in his eyes, "Is there a reason Sasak should be concerned for your well-being?" 

Spock clicked his tongue. "You know he reports only the worst of me. His detailings are biased." 

"I suppose...though there is something different about you." 

"Clarify." 

"Something has touched you. Your spirit." 

Spock leaned forward in his seat, somewhat shocked. He opened his mouth, but words didn't form, so Sarek continued. 

"Or," He raised an eyebrow, _"someone."_

When Spock didn't answer, the king sighed, letting his posture slump the tiniest bit. 

"You are not obligated to tell me. If it is important, I will find out." 

Finally, Spock managed one measly word, "How?" 

The one word could've been implying anything or put into any context but Sarek knew what he was asking. "When you are my age, you will come to realize people are much easier to read than they tell you." He paused to take a breath. "Your eyes. They glow like your mother's, an occurrence pertaining to interest and/or something exciting that has entered your life." 

There was a moment of silence that passed between them, a comfortable, knowing silence. Where a conversation is exchanged without words. 

"Father," Spock leaned back against the sofa, letting his head tilt upwards to look at the ceiling which was designed like a map of ShiKahr. "I have come to ask you advice about someone I have offended." 

"Is this the same person who has touched your spirit?" 

"...Yes." 

"How did you offend them?" 

Spock felt the faint heat of shame gather in his features. "That is not important," He answered quickly. 

"Well, how serious was the offense?" 

"A moderate offense." 

Sarek rubs his chin absently before his eyes widened slightly with the spark of an idea. "Whenever your mother became upset with me for something I did not understand, I brought her a basket of apricots." 

Spock was about to shoot that idea down, but the more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. He knew little to nothing about the stranger from the forest, but if he wanted to get to know him more, he should consider what the stranger has done so far. He made a very short mental list. 

\- hates guns

\- does not like hunting(especially as a sport) 

\- animals are our friends

\- has a strong arm 

\- did not recognize Spock and wouldn't care if he had 

The most logical conclusion from the list of observations was that Jim was a farmer who protected his land and the animals who lived inside of it. A basket of apricots could be the key. 

"A basket of apricots, you say? Are you certain it will work?" 

Sarek smiled a Vulcan-smile, meaning he didn't move a muscle in his face, yet you could tell he was happy. "It has never failed me before." 


	5. Fruits, Fantasizing, Fighting, and Fairy Godfathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is always brighter with apricots. Everyone prepares for the Marriage Ball, and his stepfather and stepbrother are excited to meet the prince, but Jim just want to spend time with his new friend, Spock.

Several weeks passed before Jim would see the stranger in the woods again, though his mind often wandered back to him and what would've happened if he'd stayed. What would've happened if he indulged the little voice in his head telling him to turn right back around and ask the Vulcan's name. 

But then he would shame himself on the reality that if anyone knew he was a lowly orphan servant, they would want nothing to do with him. So, he cooked and he scrubbed and he worked mindlessly until all thoughts of the stranger had subsided, but even then, they were at the back of his mind like gentle waves lapping at the shore of his mind. 

But one day, Jim had finished his chores early and Frank had eaten a large breakfast, meaning he was taking a nap. He snuck out with ease, but instead of taking Nila out to ride, he decided to walk. It was a lovely day, at least, Jim thought it was. It had rained yesterday, a beautiful curtain of glistening blue tears that blanketed the forest in dew. The dew, when hit with light at the right angle reflected it and it appeared to glow. Hundreds of thousands of these beautiful dew drops gave the appearance of stars all around him. Jim loved stars, he loved their glow and how far away they seemed. He couldn't believe he could see that far out, millions of miles into space where there could be anything out there. He had a deep, growing yearning to find out. 

When he got to the river that ran from the mountains through this forest, he yanked off his boots and socks, rolling up his pants before wading into the water. A shiver racked his body from the striking temperature. It was still early spring, but it was already warm enough to not need a coat. 

During this period of early spring, there was a special medicinal plant that grew near the river's bank. And unlike the costly herbs from the market, this actually worked to save lives and ease pain. It was the single greatest discovery of his life, and for almost 9 years now, he always came to this river and picked the flowers. 

And so that's what he was doing, in the river, pants and sleeves rolled up, barefoot and not expecting to see a soul. But he was wrong. 

As he harvesting the plant, there was a clearing of a throat, a gruff sound, and when Jim looked up toward the sound, there was--his eyes were tricking him it couldn't be--that Vulcan man from before! 

At the shock of it all, Jim's foot slipped out from under him and he toppled back into the river, much to both of their surprise. He felt strong hands around his waist, pulling him up from the 2-foot deep water and he was clutching fabric in his hand, just trying to get back some stability. 

Finally, the situation came back to him. He was soaking wet and what he was clutching was the Vulcan's shirt. Great...well, at least Jim was absolutely positive this was real. 

"What are you..." He gasped, still a bit out of breath "...doing here?" 

"I have been walking these woods every day in search of finding you." 

Jim opened his mouth and then promptly closed it before following the Vulcan out of the river. It did not fail to escape his notice that they were both sopping wet. Jim didn't enjoy being wet, so he peeled off his trousers and took off his shirt, leaving him in a tank top and boxer shorts, and hung the wet clothes on the branch of a tree, hoping they'd dry soon enough. 

"So you've really been walking through the forest just in case I happened to be-" 

Jim looked back at the Vulcan to see the gentleman staring at him eyes wide and completely bewildered. And then he realized he had basically stripped down in front of some guy he barely knew who was probably--definitely--from the city and probably--definitely--not used to farm people and their tendency to put function over fashion. 

"Oh, um--sorry about the lack of clothing and everything," Jim felt a sting of heat rising in his face again, "I'm just not a big fan of wet clothing or anything like that." 

"You should not apologize. I was simply not aware of the custom of shedding clothing." It also did not fail to escape his notice that there was a gentle verdant blush across his face as well when he unclasped his soaking robe and shed it like skin. 

Jim watched the robes fall from his body in one graceful motion and his mouth gaped open in awe. 

Underneath the Vulcan robes, the man was just wearing a simple black undershirt and meditation trousers. He was so thin and pale which was so different to Jim's body which was bulkier and tan from years of work outside. 

There were no words exchanged when The Vulcan hung up his robe on the tree branch next to Jim's clothes and Jim had to admit.

He was kind of impressed by the nerve of this guy. No that wasn't the right word.

The lack of snobbishness. 

From when Jim went into the city to buy food and supplies, he always found city folk uptight and rigid, completely entitled to the world and everything in it. 

But this Vulcan had not judged him since the moment they met(granted, it's only been a short amount of time) and actually seemed open to the "ways of the country" or whatever that meant. 

"You've been walking through this forest to try and find me?" 

The Vulcan nodded. "Indeed I have. After our last meeting-" He looked down almost shamefully "-I considered what you said and would like to apologize for my behavior on the day we met with-" He paused again and turned around to reach for the basket he must've dropped when Jim fell into the river, grabbed it and held it out for Jim to take "-a basket of apricots." 

"Apricots," Jim whispered incredulously. 

"Yes." 

"Thank you, that's...actually really sweet," He beamed for what felt like the first time in too long. "But why apricots?" 

"When my father upset my mother, he would ask her forgiveness with a basket of apricots, her favorite fruit." 

"Ah. Well." Jim was still processing the fact that someone had actually gotten him something. For free. No strings attached or anything. "I love apricots. Care to eat one with me?" 

The Vulcan almost looked surprised by this, but then it was once again replaced by a stonelike(but somehow warm at the same time) expression. "I would like that." 

And that was how two boys, barely men, once strangers, eating apricots and talking as if they always did this sort of thing as if this was always how their lives had been. 

It was a nice day, a beautiful one, Jim would conclude several hours later when he finally forced himself to part from his Vulcan friend. As he started to walk away though, he remembered he didn't even know this stranger's name. 

"Wait! Hey!" Jim raised his hand to the Vulcan who was several meters away. 

"Yes?" He semi-yelled back(the distance between them required yelling). 

"I didn't ask your name!"

The Vulcan pondered this for a second before answering. 

"My name is Spock!" 

Jim couldn't help but smile at that. Of _course_ his name was Spock. It fit him perfectly and somehow that name already felt familiar to him, but he wasn't given the chance to dwell on it too long because Spock yelled back: 

"And your name?" 

"Jim! My name is Jim!" 

It felt way too good to say that. And by the way a little, almost unnoticeable smile perked on either side of Spock's lips, Jim knew he liked hearing it just as much as he liked saying it. 

It would take five hours and a restless night thinking of Spock before Jim realized he'd forgotten all about those river herbs. 

But then again, he didn't mind so much. 

**~~♟~~**

Spock practically skipped all the way to the palace, but thankfully his Vulcan blood prevented him from doing anything more than nod to passing citizens a little too eagerly. No one knew he was the prince in his casual robes and it was quite refreshing to step away from his duties to the crown and venture through the woods with someone who belonged to no social class and seemed to come from another world entirely.

What would Jim think if he knew that Spock was the prince? Would he become indifferent and want nothing to do with royalty? Would he see Spock for what he was not who he was, for what everyone in the country saw him as: this mighty, untouchable prince?

No. He decided with finality. And in his mind, he saw Jim taking the throne beside him, changing the country with his strong convictions, with his warm heart and passionate soul. The way that man talked...it was empowering and inspiring on an entirely different plane of understanding.

Spock had never felt so...taken with anyone in his life before, not like this. It was strange, new, exciting, scary, and yet somehow wonderful.

"I tell you, father, I have never known anyone like him in my entire life," Spock paced his father's library with steady and unrelenting vigor.

Sarek arched an eyebrow curiously from where he sat on the plush sofa, looking perfectly content on watching the show before him. "I believe you." 

"I experienced a sensation beyond my educational understanding, an awareness that has been awoken in my person following the day I met him." 

If Sarek were human, he would have laughed. Instead, he simply sniffed, wringing his hands gently in his lap. "You sound as if you are the first gentleman in Vulcan's history ever to see a handsome face." 

"He was not a handsome face," Spock countered, but then immediately reconsidered, "He is handsome, but there is so much more to him, father-" 

"How can you know? You have only met him twice. How can you know anything about him?" 

Spock stopped pacing to stare his father right in the eyes as he said, "You admitted to me you knew mother was the one right away." 

"That was disparate. Your mother was a princess." 

"You would have loved her regardless." 

Sarek shook his head the way all fathers shake their heads when they are most definitely lying. "I would not have seen her because it would not have been becoming. My father would have told me what I am telling you and I would have listened." 

"You would not." 

"I would." 

"You would not." 

"I would." 

"You would not." 

"You are correct," Sarek finally relented, relaxing his shoulders as he let out the tiniest sigh. "I loved your mother. Not social class nor a wall nor a kingdom could stop me from doing so." 

The doctor, who had been in the room this entire time, checking Sarek's blood and vitals. 

Spock looked from his father to the doctor. "How is he?" 

The doctor glanced at them both nervously. "Your majesty-" He started and then paused for a very long time as if the words on his tongue were too painful to say. 

Sarek raised a hand up. "It is alright. If it is that difficult to say, I already know." 

Spock couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Father-" 

But Sarek cut him off by standing up. "Come, son. We must not be late for your portrait painting." 

And that was that on the discussion of the king's health. 

As they walked down one of the many palace corridors, the Duke Sasak, as well as Captain Pike, joined them. 

"Your majesty," Spock already dreaded the words coming out of Sasak's mouth "-I assume you have talked to your son about his behavior in the forest?" 

"I was not aware it was your business," Spock replied, earning a warning(but slightly amused) look from his father. 

"Your business is my business, Highness," Sasak said coolly, though his eyes were narrowed in anger. "We should not have let the stag and all other game go." 

"Just because it is what is done does not mean it is what should be done...or something like that," Spock smiled to himself, thinking fondly of the memory of Jim. 

Thankfully, they entered the painting room to find a grumpy-looking Vulcan already preparing to work on the canvas. 

"Please make him appear...marriageable. The target is to entice possible brides. Even if he will not listen to a word I say," Sarek folded his hands behind his back, observing his son get into position for the portrait. 

Spock shifted uncomfortably on top of the not-horse wooden thing. "These portraits will be sent abroad in hopes of attracting the high and mighty to attend this ball you insist upon?" 

"It is a beloved tradition among nobility," Sasak noted, already working on reports as Captain Pike fixated his gaze out the window which overlooked the garden hedge maze, a beautiful green world that Spock's mother had cherished and took care of(mostly) by herself. 

"At which you will choose someone to wed," Sarek added and Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes, something his mother used to do often. 

"If I am forced to marry, can I not marry an honest and true countryman?" 

Sasak actually scoffed at this. "And what will this country boy provide us? We are a small kingdom bordering greater and stronger kingdoms. It is a dangerous world and an advantage like this one could change the power of our country substantially-" 

Sarek interrupted Sasak with a nicer version of what he was trying to say. "I wish to see you and this kingdom secure." 

Spock let his head fall the tiniest bit before nodding. "Agreed, father. On the condition that the invitations are sent to everyone in the kingdom and not just the nobility." 

Sarek looked from Captain Pike to Sasak who both silently agreed(Pike more than the reluctant Sasak). "Then we have a deal." 

**~~♟~~**

In the next two weeks, Jim and Spock would see each other once. It was a busy few weeks, especially for Spock who had been assisting his father in the preparations for the ball. In those hours, they talked about everything and nothing, they talked about their dreams, hopes, and wishes while also keeping their family, social status all withheld. 

_It was for the best_ , they each told themselves. _He would look at me differently and I don't know if I could handle that._

Spock did tell Jim about the ball and how every eligible person in the country was invited, rich or poor. He also told Jim he wanted to see him there and Jim promised him he would. They would meet again and possibly share a dance(Jim didn't tell Spock he had never learned to dance outside of when his mother tried to teach him when he was seven then quickly gave up on the matter). 

But his mind was on other things than dancing. 

And so that day, he raced home and told his stepfather and stepbrothers of the news and they jumped for joy. For the rest of the week, Frank was talking about how he could best get his son to win the heart of the crown prince or something stupid like that. 

When Jim had (cautiously)asked Harry why he'd ever want to marry someone without knowing them, Harry cackled as if Jim was the dumbest person in existence and said, 

"What the hell does knowing the guy have to do with it? It's about the money!" 

Caleb understandably was less eager about the ball and told Jim he was only going for the food and drink that was bound to be divine. 

For the rest of the week, Harry was going on about how rich he was going to be while Frank was talking about what they could do with all of that money, and Jim, well Jim didn't have the time nor the patience to think about this great, handsome prince and all of his money because his mind was spinning around Spock, the apprentice. He practically begged Frank to go and Frank eventually agreed if Jim could finish all of his jobs(plus extras) and put something suitable on and Jim did. 

He worked so hard, his hands cramped up and slaved every night until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer fixing up one of his dad's most precious items: a beautiful set of clothes meant for a king. 

There was a story his mom used to tell him about how she used to belong to an esteemed family of great nobility. She said she grew up the daughter of a courtier and lived in wealth in comfort, but she gave it all up to marry Jim's father. At the end of her telling him, he always asked whether it was worth it and she would sigh, close her eyes, and smile. 

"Wealth is nothing compared to having someone like George Kirk. All I ever hope is that you find someone who will sweep you off your feet as your father did mine." 

She never gave the name of her family and never mentioned them outside of this story, but Jim eventually found out after her death and many hours of searching his mother's maiden name, this name of nobility and wealth. 

_Beausoleil._

Jim never saw his mother as Winona Beausoleil but always as Winona Kirk, but as he put his father's courtier clothes on, he felt a sense of pride and couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if he had grown up as a noble. 

It didn't matter, He brushed those thoughts away and focused on the outfit that fit him so perfectly, he could practically hear his mother saying, "You look just like him." 

He was transformed yet still just as he was, wearing these clothes. 

And he smiled to himself, preparing to go to the ball to find his Spock.

But we both know that this is not how the night went at all, and Jim's dreams were quite literally torn from him by his evil stepfather and brother. 

**~~♟~~**

Jim found himself in the garden, sitting on the ledge of the water fountain where he and his mother had once studied the life cycle of frogs. The fountain was dried up now and tainted with overgrown moss, just like her memory. 

Then the cold, wet tears were sliding down his face as he looked at his ragged outfit. Like he could ever be anything other than a lowly servant is what Frank said to him. And maybe he was right.

The last few weeks had clouded his senses, what with Spock and all, to what the real world was like. It wasn't a fairytale with lovely dreams woven together like an intricate tapestry. This was a world where you were torn down and drowned out if you had any original thoughts or ideas of your own. 

Obedience was survival. 

Defiance meant death. 

And who was he kidding with Spock? As soon as Spock found out the truth of him being some dirty servant, he'd up and leave him in the dust. 

"You're _so_ fucking wrong." 

He jumped at the sound of a gruff voice and for a second, fear coursed through him at the thought that maybe Frank had returned. But instead, there standing in the middle of the garden, was a literally glowing figure dressed in white robes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked tired of everything in the universe. 

Jim quickly went to wipe the tears off of his face with the back of his dirty sleeve. "Who are you?" 

"Who do you think I am?" 

"I don't know," Jim gave him another look, "a door salesman?" 

The guy straight up laughed sarcastically before narrowing his eyes even more. " _Very funny_ , Jim." 

"You know my name?" 

"Well of course I know your damn name! I'm your goddamn fairy godfather for heaven sakes!" 

_Of course_ , Jim thought to himself, _I'd get the grumpy one_. 

"Listen, kid. You've been taking a lot of shit over the years from your doorknob-of-a-person stepfather and your idiot stepbrother. Now, finally, I'm allowed to step in-" 

"You weren't allowed before?" 

"There are a shit ton of rules that come with being magical. Including no drinking, which I'm still working on getting repealed-" 

Jim gave him one of those looks his mother used to give him when he was rambling and this guy seemed to get the point. 

"Everybody calls me Bones. I'm supposed to fix all of your problems." 

The blond perked up. "Like get rid of my stepfather?" 

Bones winced and shook his head. "Sorry, kid. Big stuff like that you have to do on your own." 

This was getting really annoying. "Okay, so what exactly _do_ you do?" 

"Well for starters," Bones smiled evilly, _"I'm getting you to that fucking ball."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to write, but I hope I make up for it with the length of this chapter! Speaking of the length of this chapter, this is actually two chapters combined because I really don't want to waste more time and REALLY want to get to the ball SO YEAH. 
> 
> THANKS FOR READING AND PLEASE LEAVE KUDOS. I SPENT THREE HOURS IN A ROW WRITING THIS ONE CHAPTER.
> 
> ALSO BONES IS MY CURRENT MOOD. PEACE AND LONG LIFE Y'ALL


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